


Harry Potter and the Curse of the Fat Cat

by FuryFiction



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Mentions of wands being inserted anally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 02:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4504929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryFiction/pseuds/FuryFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Boy who Lived gets more than he bargained for when he agrees to look after Malfoy's cat during the summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry Potter and the Curse of the Fat Cat

‘Oh come  _on_ , Pansy!’ Draco’s brow creased for the third time that morning, despite it only being ten o’clock; his father always said if he did that too often, he would get frown lines unworthy of a Malfoy, but he simply couldn’t help it, ‘it’s just for the summer!’

It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to keep a firm grip on the huge ball of white fluff that was his cat and he briefly hoisted her up onto his shoulder so he could take a moment to restore the flow of blood in both his arms. His cat, Fussy, had put on weight again and try as he might, he still couldn’t understand how; yes, he had a bad habit of slipping her the occasional treat to go along with her dinner – small, harmless scraps of chocoballs and fudgeflies and jelly slugs and pumpkin pasties -- but he was almost certain that wasn't the problem.

‘For the hundreth time Draco, I  _can’t_ ,’ Pansy snapped in response to his moaning and she stuck her puggish nose further into the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, ‘last time I took that cat home, she tore up the curtains and ate seven fish from my neighbour’s goldfish pond!’

'She’s a  _cat_ , Pansy; you can hardly blame her for following her instincts. I thought we were friends!’

‘The bigger she gets, the less I’m inclined to believe she isn’t a pig with fur,’ Pansy grunted as the animal gave an unflattering hiss, ‘anyway, it’s not me, it’s my mum. There’s no way she’ll agree to look after her again. I don’t see why you can’t just leave her at home.’

 'The house elves are too afraid to feed her. I honestly can’t understand why; she only nips them _occasionally.'_

 ‘Yeah, it’s a mystery.’

 Draco took up residence on one of the armchairs nearby, letting the cat hop down from around his neck and sprawl out on his knees like a big hairy cushion, ‘so what do I do? If I don’t find someone to look after Fussy, I can’t go to Paris with father during the holidays. He was going to buy me that overcoat with alpaca lining that I've wanted for _ages_.’

 'What about Blaise? He likes cats doesn’t he?’

  ‘Last time he looked after Fussy, his rotten dogs frightened her and she wet herself all over his great aunt’s Persian rug,’ Draco replied with a tragic sigh, as if it was just _so_  unreasonable for the Zabinis to have banned all visiting pets from their house for life after that experience, ‘she was so traumatised when she came home; I still don't think she's fully recovered.’

Pansy’s dark eyes rolled in their sockets, ‘what about Nott?’

 'Allergies.’

 ‘Crabbe? Goyle?’

‘Pansy, they can hardly look after themselves; let alone a very special,  _very_  expensive member of my family,’ he lifted Fussy into his arms and waved her in Pansy's direction, ‘this is a pedigree!’

‘Well then,’ Pansy gave her paper another ruffle, ‘looks like you might have to expand your options a bit.’

‘Meaning what, Parkinson?’

‘ _Meaning_  that you’ll have to ask someone outside of the Slytherin dorm to look after your furry monster.’

‘I am _not_ having the likes of a Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff – or Merlin forbid, a  _Gryffindor_  – coming anywhere near my Fussy!’ cried Draco, ignoring Pansy's insult, ‘you don’t think Professor Snape would-?’

‘I highly doubt it, Draco. Look, Granger has a cat.’

‘Are you honestly suggesting that I leave Fussy in the hands of that disgusting Muggle and her flea-bitten moggie?’

‘Would you rather try Weasley?’

Her response was a chilling glare. 

* * *

 Stupid Pansy with her stupid ideas. But so far it was the  _only_  idea Draco had and that’s why he was currently trudging towards the Gryffindor dormitory with Fussy in hand, vowing that his last resort would be bloody Longbottom should Granger choose to decline. 

‘Password?’ the fat lady declared as soon as he was near and her booming voice made Fussy’s nose wrinkle.

 ‘Fortuna Major,’ he mumbled in reply, wondering how much snooping Pansy had to do in order to get that damned password; but he was inside now and could already hear the chatter flooding from the common room - if they decided to attack him, he would at least be able to take a few of them out with his wand, and then leave the rest to Fussy. There were claws under those delicate velvet feet after all.

’Who let  _you_  in?’ was what he was greeted with when he stepped into the common room and came face to face with the Golden trio who were piled next to the hearth, ‘and what in Merlin’s bollocks is  _that_?’

A pair of silver eyes narrowed dangerously and Ron felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, ‘I’m here for Granger, Weasley. And please refrain from gawping like that; the inside of your mouth looks ghastly.’

He noticed that Potter remained serenely silent in his armchair, only glancing up when Malfoy first stepped into the room. Either he was too engrossed in the book he was reading or his concern for Malfoy’s personal affairs was slowly beginning to diminish. Not that Draco cared at all.

‘You’re here to talk to  _me ?'_ Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, on the borderline of suspicion and curiosity, ‘and exactly what on earth would you want to talk to  _me_  about?’

‘I’ve come to ask a favour… _Hermione_ ,’ Draco spat out the word with extreme effort, ‘you see, I’m going away over the summer and Fussy here-’

‘-you called it  _Fussy_?’ Ron cackled.

‘-needs a place to stay while I’m gone,’ Draco finished, completely ignoring Weasley’s comment and carrying on sweetly as if he was pitching the perfect sale, ‘no one in Slytherin can look after her and since you have a cat of your own, I concluded that you would be the most suitable candidate, should I end up relying on a Gryffindor. All you have to do is follow the printed instructions I give you to ensure Fussy has a safe and pleasant experience in your humble Muggle abode. Simple, wouldn't you agree?’

Hermione was still scanning the blond for any signs of dishonesty but that incredibly awkward smile Draco gave her must have been convincing enough to dispel her cautious distrust, ‘I’m flattered you asked, Malfoy. And she’s absolutely lovely,’ her fingertips brushed across the thick white fur, graciously ignoring the growl that followed, ‘but I’m afraid I can’t; you see, Crookshanks hasn’t been “fixed” yet.’

‘I don’t follow.’

Ron’s sniggering intensified.

‘Well…’ a faint blush swirled into Hermione’s tawny cheeks, ‘you see, most people consider it important to have their pets neutered so they don’t--’

Crookshanks had been studying Fussy from the mantelpiece ever since she came in and now he mewled loudly, cutting Hermione off. Seconds later, he was prowling across the carpet, curling his long slender body around the Draco's ankles and peering up at him with curious brown eyes. 

‘ _Ugh_ …’ Draco shuddered as his trouser leg rode up ever so slightly and he felt a matted clump of fur rub against his shin; he always felt unnerved when he looked at the flat-faced cat, wondering if it had been thrown against a brick wall at birth, ‘well if you can’t, there has to be some other feline enthusiast in this crummy dormitory who’ll be willing to look after her. Look, I’ll throw in fifty galleons for whoever volunteers; is that fair?’

Harry could see Dean considering the offer from the corner but he was well aware that the Malfoy’s would be stinking broke before anyone agreed to take that moody furball home. Neville was shifting nervously nearby, his face resembling something of an overgrown beetroot. Nearly everyone in the room was faintly aware of the puppy crush the Gryffindor had been harbouring for Draco Malfoy since their first year in Hogwarts, when Neville took the liberty of sharing his bag of chocolate fudge with the Slytherin after he lost his own. So they half expected him to seize this opportunity by the shoulders. But he shook his head.

‘I would, Malfoy,’ Neville said with a loud gulp as Draco batted his eyes at him hopefully, ‘but you see…well, my grandmother won’t have animals in the house. She says they make too much of a mess. I have to keep Trevor in the shed over the summer.’

The others cooed sympathetically, though Malfoy let out a growl of despair and began going through all the reasons why Gryffindors were incompetant when it came to responsibility.

‘Merlin’s sake,  _I’ll_  take the damn thing,’ Harry finally spoke up, letting his book hit the floor with a soft thud, ‘God knows my uncle will kill me but if it will shut you up, I'll do it.’

Draco, breathless from complaining and now with his arms full of  _two_  fat furry cats (Crookshanks had started to feel lonely and scaled up his trouser leg to be held too) gave a flustered huff, ‘I had no intention of asking you Potter but on account of the fact that I’m desperate, I suppose I have no choice but to accept your offer. Do you want your payment upfront or  _after_ you’ve left my cat psychologically damaged?’

‘I don’t want your money,’ Harry crossed both arms, ‘there’s only one thing I want from you; and I’d rather discuss it in private.’

The Gryffindors took this as their cue to leave and though Hermione voiced her immediate displeasure at leaving Crookshanks behind, it seemed the cat was intent on remaining with Malfoy’s fuzzy fuzzball for as long as he saw fit. So Draco was left alone in the common room with an armful of cat and a very stoic looking Harry Potter. Not quite how he had expected to be spending his Saturday morning.

‘I’ll look after your manky old cat, Malfoy,’ Harry couldn’t help but let his mouth twist into a smirk at the insulted look on Draco’s face, ‘but I'd like something from you in return first.’

Two silver-blue eyes batted in confusion, then suddenly went wide. The arms holding the two cats slowly lowered them to the floor mechanically and let them roll about together on the carpet. A dangerous heat flooded into both of Draco Malfoy's cheeks as he reached down and slowly began to unzip his trousers, wondering how in Merlin’s name he was going to explain this to his father.

‘Uhm, Malfoy…what are you doing?’

Draco’s fingers halted, his pants nearly at his knees, ‘well…I assumed you wanted to…’

‘No, no,  _no_ ,’ Harry slapped a hand across his forehead in exasperation, ‘what I mean is, I’ll take care of your cat if you promise to leave me and my friends alone when we return to school next term. No teasing, no badmouthing and absolutely no calling Hermione a Mudblood -- you use her proper name from now on.’

'Oh.' Draco took a moment to recover from his initial shock and quickly pulled his trousers back up, 'alright, Potter. You've got a deal. But do I _have_ to call Granger by her first name? Can't I just call her a--?'

‘ _No_ , Malfoy,' interrupted Harry, sternly, and he held out his hand, 'either you agree to abide to _all_  my terms or your precious moggy can spend the summer with Filch.’

Draco had never shook hands so quickly in his life.

* * *

Summer came all too quickly for Harry and before he knew it, Draco Malfoy had dumped a large ball of powder white fluff - who seemed even fatter than the last time he saw her – into his arms, along with a long list of instructions and his contact information should anything go horribly wrong.

‘And remember Potter,’ he had warned in that irritatingly arrogant voice of his, ‘if you do anything to upset my Fussy, my father will be hearing about it.’

Lucius gave a jaded sigh from nearby.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Harry had replied, doing his best to keep a hold of the parchment containing the instructions without dropping the damned cat in the process, ‘but Malfoy, is taking all this stuff with me really necessary?’

He motioned to the trolley holding his suitcases – now accompanied by a miniature four poster cat bed, a state of the art food bowl made of solid gold, an assortment of collars for each day of the week studded with real jewels and a satchel containing a brush, shampoo, conditioner and her favourite soft toy.

" _Bloody hell, she's more spoiled than Dudley._ "

‘Of course they’re all necessary!’ Draco rolled his eyes as if Harry was deliberately being an idiot, ‘she couldn’t possibly enjoy herself without all her favourite things; could you, my little cream puff?’

Fussy stopped growling long enough to purr at her daddy and lick his cheek with her long, sandpaper tongue, making Harry want to gag.

‘Enjoy your holiday, Malfoy,’ he said in an attempt to get off the platform before he projectile vomited everywhere, ‘and remember our deal, okay?’

Draco grunted but Harry gave him a long, hard stare from behind his glasses and finally he caved in, ‘yes, yes, I promise. Though I’m liable to bend your terms if I discover that Fussy hasn’t been well cared for. But thank you for agreeing to look after her, Potter. I appreciate it – and if you ever tell anyone I told you that, I’ll shove my wand up your arse the first day back at school. Got it?’

‘That’s kinky, Malfoy. And you’re welcome.’

* * *

There seemed to be nothing more awkward to Harry than sitting in the back of a taxi, cradling a cat the size of a baby elephant on his lap. The fact that the driver had told him that no dogs were allowed in the car - and then peered at the animal suspiciously when Harry informed him she was actually a cat - seemed to confirm that it was in fact a _very_  awkward thing and not just to him. It was pointless trying to get her into the house undetected as well; she was so large, it was practically impossible to get past anyone without drawing attention.

As soon as Dudley’s piggy eyes caught sight of the big white Maine Coon hidden under Harry’s jacket, he demanded ownership of the cat immediately, much to Aunt Petunia’s dismay. When she attempted to coax his attention away with the promise of buying him his own cat once the summer was over, he took it upon himself to liberate the animal manually and made the dire error of grasping a chubby handful of white fur, pulling hard.

‘Dudley,' Harry began in warning, 'I wouldn’t do that if I were-’

But there was no need to worry. Fussy was a big girl and could fight her own battles, they soon discovered, as she launched herself straight towards Dudley’s smug-poked face and clamped herself around it. What followed was several frantic minutes of Dudley running about in a frenzy and screaming in horror, while his parents desperately tried to pull the crazy cat off of him.

Lucius had already informed Harry of what to do in these situations – after all, the senior Malfoy had plenty of experience trying to prise the cat off Dobby – and after rooting about through the various bags, Harry located the little stuffed unicorn and waved it in Fussy’s direction.  Almost immediately, she un-latched herself from Dudley’s scalp and padded over as if nothing had happened at all. Humorous as it was to see his cousin hopping about like a startled toad, Harry was quietly aware that his uncle would not stand for this.

‘I will not stand for this!’ Uncle Vernon roared and began listing all the reasons why having a savage cat in the house wasn’t acceptable; but the threat of having a powerful wizard family suing them for all they were worth promptly shut him up.

‘So long as you keep it upstairs!’ snapped Aunt Petunia, still dabbing antiseptic against the claw marks on Dudley’s face.

* * *

‘This is my room…’ Harry declared rather foolishly to the animal sitting on the carpet, as he managed to haul the final bag up the stairs and shift it into the corner, ‘I hope you’re very comfortable here, Fussy.’

The cat sniffed at him in a very Malfoy-like way and stuck her silky tail into the air, trotting over to inspect the bed by the wall as if to ensure its cleanliness. She didn’t seem at all thrilled about the clothes and paper carelessly strewn across the floor; she stepped over a discarded ice cream carton and stuck her head into the half open sock drawer at the other side of the room, moving away when the smell became far too rancid.

Harry busied himself for the next few hours carefully arranging Fussy’s items on the worn-out carpet – and then re-arranging them when she decided she wasn’t happy with how things were placed and mewled for him to start over. She finally seemed satisfied with the location of the bed; directly underneath the window as Draco had requested so she got enough sunlight; and she lowered her large body onto the readily-fluffed pillows laid out for her.

‘You’re sleeping already?’ Harry asked, alarmed, ‘but the instructions say you shouldn’t be napping until at least three in the afternoon; Draco says it’ll ruin your sleep pattern!’

He tried to reach down and pluck her out of the four poster but she mewled at him groggily, swatting one heavy paw in warning.

‘Alright, alright,’ Harry held his hands up defensively, ‘just don’t sleep too long; contrary to popular belief, I don't much like the thought of a wand being shoved up my arse, thanks very much.’

Fussy slept right until dinner time, only awoken when Hedwig returned from her evening flight and swooped through the open window, rattling her cage. The instructions clearly stated that Fussy was to be fed immediately after she woke up but Harry delayed it for an hour as he prepared supper for the Dursleys and returned to his bedroom to find a very disgruntled, very hungry cat. 

‘Okay,’ said to himself after he had finally hauled Fussy downstairs and managed to get the fridge open, ‘so that’s a scoop of corn beef; one tablespoon of chicken paste; one _quarter_ tablespoon of liver; half an avocado, mashed; a spoonful of crab pâté for garnish and…’ he glanced at the paper briefly, ‘a teaspoon of mint jelly? Alright, Malfoy. You’re the boss.’

After Fussy’s gourmet tower was complete, he pushed the overflowing bowl in the direction of his guest in hope that she would stop her continuous complaining and just eat. She took interest in the meal almost instantly but as she drew nearer, her pink nose wrinkled and she looked up at Harry with large, heartbroken eyes.

‘What’s wrong?' Harry asked desperately, terrified he had hurt her feelings, ‘I did everything I was supposed to- oh Merlin’s pants, I forgot the parsley!’

* * *

Only three days had gone by and Harry was already beginning to feel the pangs of insanity sweeping over his person, slowly biting and biting into his skull and infecting his exhausted brain. It turned out Fussy had a very irritating habit of snoring during the night – after her nightly serenade of manic yowls and screeches to the moon, that is.

_Please bear in mind that Fussy may exercise her vocal chords frequently before bed. It’s a cat thing and she is not to be disturbed_ – said Draco.

Her temper was taking the biscuit as well. No matter how many times Harry plumped up her pillows, garnished her meals or brushed her damned fur, all she did was grumble and growl and flick her tail in his face like the ungrateful little shit she was. There were times when he was tempted to just kick her big furry arse into the nearest wardrobe for the next six weeks; but Draco had promised him the Anal Wand Treatment if Fussy was returned to the manor with a single blemish and Slytherins were always true to their word.

So like a true Gryffindor, Harry grinned and begrudgingly bore it.

* * *

  **Hi Harry,**

_How’s your summer going? Sucks that you’ve been lumbered with Malfoy’s moldy old puss; as if Hermione’s cat wasn’t bad enough! Just make sure nothing happens to her; otherwise Malfoy will never let us hear the end of it. By the way, has she gotten any bigger since school broke up? I mean I know she was fat but she really started ballooning towards the end of term. Probably because Malfoy feeds her so many bloody sweets! Anyway, just make sure she doesn’t get any bigger or she might explode and then you’ll be sorry._

_Good luck mate,_

**Ron**

* * *

Three weeks into this newfound petsitting business and, astoundingly, Harry found he was slowly but surely becoming accustomed to the daily routine of keeping Fussy as happy as possible. He had mastered the culinary side of things now, ensuring that she always got a full roast every Sunday (gravy included) and her finest selection of confectioneries were always on hand between meals. It was a good thing too - she was literally hoovering the stuff down without swallowing these days and Harry was deadly certain that it was only a matter of time until she choked herself to death.

Meal times were easy -- but bath time was positively hazardous. If there was so much as a sud out of line, that goddamned mewling would ring in his ears for the rest of the night and he would wake up the next morning feeling like he had downed seven bottles of firewhisky. Draco had warned him about keeping her over the water to ensure none of the soap got into her eyes but from the way she thrashed about it was easier said than done; for such a fat cat, she packed a whole lot of muscle. 

Next came the brushing; exactly five hundred strokes with her special kitty bath brush after she had been appropriately blasted into an even furrier ball of fluff by Aunt Petunia's hair dryer. And then of course he had to ensure there wasn't a single crease or wrinkle in her precious four poster, otherwise she would adamantly refuse to sleep there and end up plonking herself on his pillow instead.

But despite their differences, Harry was almost certain that Fussy was growing on him, if only slightly. Fussy hated storms; when the thunder roared and the lightning crashed, she would cry and run right into Harry's arms for comfort and spend the rest of the night there, curled up to his chest. Sometimes, when he was busy writing letters or doing his homework, she would hop up onto the desk and nuzzle his cheek to get his attention until he put everything on hold to play with her. They bonded over their mutual dislike for Dudley; which had been very entertaining up until Fussy wet herself all over Dudley's summer homework and Uncle Vernon had spanked Harry with a rolled up newspaper as punishment.

But there was no denying that something close to a friendship was beginning to blossom between the boy and his cat. After all, Harry decided, it was wiser having Fussy as a friend than an enemy.

* * *

  **Dear Harry,**

_Sorry it’s taken me so long to write but I wanted to let you know that if Fussy gets too much for you, you can always send her over to stay with me. We finally managed to get Crookshanks neutered and now it would be safe to have her about, seeing as there wouldn’t be any risk of him making her pregnant. Besides, she’s a lovely looking cat. Probably a nightmare to look after but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Of course, if you think you can cope, then by all means keep her but just know that if it ever gets too much for you to handle, I’ll happily take her off your hands._

_Have a good summer,_

**Hermione**

* * *

' _Five pounds_?!' Harry's eyes practically boggled out of their sockets as he observed the number on the scales, 'how the _heck_ did you manage to gain five pounds in one week?!'

If Fussy could speak, she probably would have made some sneering comment about how raising your voice was highly unsophisticated when addressing a pedigree. But she couldn't speak - thank God for small mercies - so she meowed instead, hopping off the scales and sticking her tail up in Harry's face the way she always did when he complained about her. The urge to shove her in his wardrobe for the rest of the summer was still achingly present. 

'Never mind,' Harry said between his teeth, face going red in an attempt to ward off the internal scream mounting at the back of his throat, 'what's a few pounds more, eh? I bet Draco won't even notice.'

He looked at the elephant-sized cat waddling towards the door.

'Oh, who am I kidding?!' he wailed, 'of  _course_  he'll notice; you look like a beach ball!'

Another indignant meow, as Fussy lifted a paw towards the door to be let out. Well, there was still the possibility of getting her on that treadmill that Aunt Petunia bought Uncle Vernon for Christmas (which he never used.)

'Come on then; you're due another feed,' he lifted her with a considerable amount of strength and held her close to his face, 'though I really think you could stand to reduce your portion sizes a bit.'

A large, white paw smacked him across the nose.

* * *

  **Potter,**

_I’m writing to you only because I want an update on how my wonderful Fussykins is doing. You better be following my instructions word by word – I had father sharpen my wand just for you if you haven’t. I want you to write back to me answering the following questions:_

**.** _Has Fussy been crying at all?_  
_**.** Is she getting her regular naps?_  
_**.** Is she eating properly?_  
_**.** Is she losing/gaining any weight?_  
_**.** Is she upset/annoyed a lot?_  
_**.** Have you been interrupting her vocal warm-ups?_  
_**.** Are you keeping her away from that awful cousin of yours?_ _  
_ **.** _Is she missing me?_

_Be sure to mail me quickly – Paris, as exotic and beautiful as it is, doesn’t seem to be a natural habitat for owls so make sure Hegwick or whatever her name is doesn’t give herself away to any Muggles._

_I suppose I should thank you again for doing this._

**Draco Malfoy**

* * *

Thank God the summer was almost over; it seemed to have gone on forever to Harry but in only two weeks he would be back at school, away from the Dursleys and Fussy would be Malfoy’s problem.

Said cat didn't seem to be gaining weight anymore, thank goodness. But she was still alarmingly huge and with school starting soon, Harry would need to do all he could to make sure she burned off just a few calories. His arsehole was aching just at the thought of Malfoy's wand being shoved right into it. 

He was awoken on a particularly humid Sunday morning by Aunt Petunia rapping her knuckles against his bedroom door, demanding he get downstairs and prepare breakfast for the family. He suppressed a groan, stretching out until his spine clicked awkwardly and scooted about his bedside table for his glasses. 

Strange. He could have sworn he left them...

'FUSSY!' he yelled with a screech his aunt would be proud of as he discovered the cat sprawled out on his carpet, gnawing the arms of his spectacles which were bent and sticking at an awkward angle. She must have been at them all night. So much for beauty sleep. 'You miserable-!' he began, swiping the broken glasses from the cat's paws so her big blue eyes fluttered in surprise, 'these are my only pair and Uncle Vernon said if I broke them again I would be paying for a new pair out of my own allowance! Have you any idea how much these things cost?!'

'Meow.'

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt not to kick the stupid creature into the wall; he fumbled about for his wand and quickly muttered a spell Hermione taught him so they snapped back into place. Hopefully the Ministry would overlook such a brief use of magic. 

He decided Fussy had earned herself a day of solitary confinement and left to make breakfast, closing the door tight behind him. He had managed to keep his temper in order for a good month or so but his patience was slowly beginning to diminish by the second and if he allowed it to screw up the morning meal, his arse would be getting a taste of the Sunday Times again. Thankfully he managed to calm down long enough not to ruin the tea and toast; and the piles of dishes afterwards gave him plenty of time to go over the situation in his head and decide it really wasn't as big a deal as he was making it out to be; cats would be cats. His glasses were fixed. The balance of nature had been restored.

By mid-morning, Harry came to the conclusion that Fussy had been punished enough and even went to the trouble of buying her a few special treats when he popped down to the corner shop to get Aunt Petunia more cooking oil. Fussy may not be able to talk, but he was almost certain she had some psychic communication with Draco that would somehow allow him to know if she had been neglected in any sort of way. 

'Fussy,' he called softly as he pushed open his bedroom door, 'I wanted to say sorry to you -- MISERABLE FELINE!'

He should have known better than to trust such a despicable animal. The little monster had completely desecrated his room during his absence. The contents of his waste paper bin had been strewn across the carpet; paper and little scraps of food everywhere. The curtains were torn to ribbons. The small potted plant that Professor Sprout had given him was over turned and thick, muddy pawprints were scattered all over the bed. And Fussy - having discovered the secret stash of chocolates and Bertie Botts Beans underneath his bed - was currently being sick all over the Potions report that was due the first day back. 

'That's it,' he marched over to the retching cat and picked her up by the scruff, 'I don't care if I get fifty wands shoved up my arse! You're out of here!'

He ignored the yowls of protest he received as he plopped her out onto the landing and slammed the door shut behind him. He ignored the scratching and the crying too. If Dudley ever woke up long enough to leave his bedroom, Harry cared little for the stupid cat's fate.

* * *

The rest of the day was relatively peaceful, even though it was well into the afternoon before Harry finally got all the mess cleaned up. Fussy had stopped her whining and he was hoping she might have worn herself out and decided to take a nap at the top of the stairs instead of bugging him. And a good thing too; the room still reeked of cat sick and he had almost used an entire bottle of carpet cleaner to get rid of it.

Evening drew in and the familiar roar of Uncle Vernon sounded from downstairs, summoning Harry to prepare supper. There still hadn't been a peep out of Fussy.

'Alright Fussy,' he called as he grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door forwards, 'I'm not mad anymore. Come downstairs and I'll get you your dinner.'

The landing was empty. Not even a cat hair in sight. He wondered if she had grown bored and wandered downstairs to terrorise somebody else while he was busy. He wouldn't put it past her, that was for sure. But she wasn't in the living room or the garden; or the cupboard under the stairs (A.K.A his old bedroom.) She wasn't even in the kitchen raiding the fridge. 

Oh Merlin's bollocks, no. This wasn't happening.

'Fussy!' he cried out, panic stricken; he hurried to the front door and threw it open, calling out desperately, 'Fussy? Fussy! Here girl! Come on Fussy!'

Uncle Vernon yelled something about showing them up in front of the neighbours but his response was the sound of the door cracking against the lock. Harry was in the street, searching around every house, checking by the bins, trying to find any trace of an obese white cat that could have been spotted a mile away.

'Fussy! Oh Fussy, please don't do this to me!' his fingers tangled into his hair, pulling hard, 'Draco is going to kill me!'

Silence. Not a single meow.

* * *

  **Potter,**

_I appreciate you sending such a long letter, though you really needn't have rambled so much; the first sentence of "FUSSY'S LEGGED IT," was more than enough information. I wish I could say that I was furious with you for misplacing my son's cat - but in all honesty, she was a bit of a headache, so I'm not really experiencing any separation anxiety just yet. Draco, on the other hand, is very upset and said something along the lines of "I knew trusting Potter with anything was a mistake."_

_He'll calm down, eventually. I've told him I'll happily get him another cat when the summer is over but he keeps saying it won't be the same. If you plan on looking for her, she's most likely looking for food. Shocking, I know, but that's your safest bet._

_Good luck searching (but do try not to stress yourself out,)_

**Lucius Malfoy**

P.S  _Paris is beautiful for a Muggle country, thank you for asking_

* * *

First day back at school and there was still no sign of Fussy. On the bright side, Harry had managed to re-do the potions report she had ruined, which meant he wouldn't be obliterated by Snape upon his return to Hogwarts; but a week's worth of detentions seemed much more favorable than being penetrated by Malfoy's wand. 

An open window must have been Fussy's escape route, he came to conclude; that or Dudley had deliberately let her out with the intention of her disappearing forever - or at least until the scars on his face had healed. But there was no use trying to blame anyone else. It was his own carelessness that had caused her to run away. And being the bloody Boy who Lived, he would need to stick his chin up and face the consequences like a true wizard. He just hoped Fussy wasn't hurt -- or worse, dead. They didn't always get along but he had developed a soft spot for that ridiculous cat.

'I still can't believe you lost Malfoy's cat!' Hermione cut into his thoughts as they followed the rest of the crowd into the Great Hall, where Dumbledore would proceed to greet them all and ready them for their fourth year, 'I _knew_ you should have sent her to me. She could be seriously hurt!'

'We can only dream,' Ron added, smirking as Hermione's sharp elbow met his ribs, 'she's probably off bullying some field mice. That or she's a nice kitty pancake squashed in the middle of the road somewhere.'

Harry almost burst into tears at that.

It was almost impossible to concentrate when he sat down and was forced to endure the ramblings of the head teacher about the new responsibilities they would have to take upon themselves in the new school year and yada yada yada. He was too busy thinking about poor Fussy. Well, “poor” was a whopping great overstatement but for all he knew, she was a mangled mess lying in a dustbin somewhere with no one there to provide her daily essentials. And it was all his fault.

‘Professor Lupin!’ Hermione’s exclaimed whisper startled him, ‘what’s he doing here? I thought he resigned!’

Indeed, there were several confused glances in said professor’s direction – ever since the truth had been outed the previous year, they had assumed he would never be permitted to set foot in Hogwarts again. But here he was, seated next to everyone’s favourite potions master as if the situation wasn’t bizarre at all.

‘Perhaps Dumbledore convinced him to stay on,’ mumbled Ron but Harry saw Seamus shake his head.

‘I heard it was Snape.’

‘ _Snape_?’

‘I heard Tracey Nettlebed telling Flint; apparently old Snape practically begged Professor Lupin to stay.’

‘But why?’ asked Hermione, puzzled, ‘I thought they-’

‘-and in unrelated news,’ continued Dumbledore, oblivious to chinwagging Gryffindors, ‘I am delighted to announce that Professor Lupin and Professor Snape have decided to join together in matrimony and will be married at the start of winter term,’ he motioned for the two professors to stand and Lupin tugged a reluctant Snape to his feet, ‘the ceremony will take place here in the Great Hall; all students are acquired to attend.’

The ominous silence was immediately thwarted by applause as Remus caught his fiancé by the waist and closed the space between them for a quick kiss. There was a noticeable standing ovation from the Slytherin table – save for Draco, who was too busy sobbing on Pansy’s shoulder to notice his Godfather had just got engaged to a werewolf. Most of the Gryffindors remained bum-to-seat, jaws almost reaching their laps.

‘I can’t believe it!’ Hermione whispered when the clapping died down and the two professors had returned to their seats, discretely holding hands under the table, ‘who would have thought-? Oh Ron, stop making that face; I know it’s a bit of a shock but this means Professor Lupin will be staying for good! Close your mouth, for goodness sake!’

Harry was too distracted to even be surprised. He was busy focusing on Draco, sniffing and snivelling like a baby three tables down. Perhaps if he wasn’t so ridden with guilt, he may have wet himself laughing.

* * *

Well, it was time to pay the Piper; or so Ron often said. Hermione had offered to accompany him when he faced Malfoy but he decided it was unfair to drag her into this turmoil of betrayal and deceit and he’d rather she be back at the dorm, on standby for when he returned a broken man. Nearing the Slytherin common room, he took a moment to beg forgiveness from Good Godric (or perhaps it should have been Salazar) before muttering the password he had got off one of the first years and dragging himself in. 

He found Draco by the hearth, his nose buried in one of those hardbacks from the shelves that contained several ancient texts about mythical creatures and their many values to the Wizarding World. After that incident with Buckbeak, Harry would have thought Malfoy would steer clear of those. 

‘I’m here Malfoy,’ he finally called out, his voice as dry as Aunt Petunia’s cooking, ‘listen, I know I let you down but I want you to know I’m really, really-’

He was never allowed to finish his sentence, because at that moment Draco decided to throw away his book and lunge at him. Not swinging a punch or going for a full on rugby tackle, Harry shortly discovered. A pair of arms wrapped around his neck and he felt Malfoy’s soft, platinum blond hair brush against his cheek.

‘Potter! I don’t know how you managed to get here before me but I can’t believe you did such a wonderful job!’

‘I, eh…’ was all the stunned Gryffindor could burble, allowing himself to be dragged towards the boys' dormitory where Fussy’s little princess bed was propped up behind the curtains, as if it was now a monument for Draco to mourn over. Malfoy loosened his grip only to seize the hanging fabric and draw it back to reveal…

It was Harry’s turn to gawp.

‘Fu-Fu..?’ he stammered like a fool as he drank in the sight of the familiar cat safely nestled in her favourite pillow; only she was now accompanied by several other tiny balls of fluff.

‘Kittens!’ Draco exclaimed, ‘that explains why she put on so much weight! She was pregnant! Oh Potter, look how comfortable you made her! I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy!’

Fussy was, indeed, a very different cat to the one Harry had looked after all summer. Not only was she purring -- she actually licked Harry's hand when he came near, rubbing her face against his knuckles so he would pet her. Harry still couldn't understand how in the world she had made it from Privet Drive all the way to the Slytherin common room; but he decided it wasn't worth informing Malfoy about this.

‘Well,’ he adjusted his glasses as Fussy licked his hand again, ‘it was nothing, really.’

‘Where did you find her?’ Draco asked, sitting at the edge of his bed and inviting Harry to join him; Fussy’s head perked a moment in interest but she soon returned her attention to her new fleet of minions, busying herself with some grooming, ‘you said she was lost in your letter; I thought she would be trapped in that horrible muggle world forever.’

‘Ah, yes, well...’ Harry wracked his brains for a believable excuse, ‘you see, I  _did_  lose her – or rather she lost herself – but I came across her the day before school and decided to…surprise you.’

Two silver eyes narrowed slightly, ‘ _surprise_  me?’

‘Yeah…’ Harry gave a small, awkward lopsided grin and held out his arms, ‘surprise?’

A short, cringe-worthy silence briefly followed this gag. And then a laugh.

‘You’re a strange one, Potter,’ Malfoy did this unique and strangely adorable cock of the head, like a puppy waiting for a treat, ‘I like that.’

Harry wasn’t entirely sure of what he meant at first – whether he meant “like” as in “like in a friendly way,” or “like” as in “really like” or the special type of like where you  _really_ liked something to the point where “like” shortly turned into “love.”

Draco didn’t really seem to know either. Two pink blotches appeared on each side of his face.

‘So, uhm…we had an agreement,’ he finally said in an effort to break the silence, ‘and I can sorrowfully say that I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, hereby agree to your terms of not traumatising a single Gryffindor for the rest of the school year.’

Harry accepted the hand that was held out to him – a deceptive move, for as soon as he took hold of it Draco pulled him forwards with one swift thrust and suddenly his lips were touching something soft and pearl pink in colour. He found himself gurgling incoherently.

‘What was that for?’ he interrogated weakly when the other had finally pulled away; his glasses had steamed up and the room was a fuzzy haze.

‘My way of saying thank you,’ was Malfoy’s drawl reply but that same smirk was playing on his lips, full of mischief, ‘hey Pot- I mean, Harry…I know you have your owl and all but would you like one of the kittens? I doubt father will let me keep them all; they’d mess up the furniture.’

‘Oh…’ Harry gave the litter a doubtful glance, ‘it’s kind of you to offer but I’m not sure my aunt and uncle would want another cat around the house. Fussy was enough trouble as it is.’

Draco made a face that said “insolent muggles” but instead he replied, ‘you don’t have to take it back to those awful people. You can keep it in your dorm during school term and I’ll look after it during the summer. Call it joint custody.’

Harry didn’t seem moved to argue; the little cream puffs were rather cute after all, ‘alright then. So long as they don’t take after their mother. Does this mean I won't get a wand up my arse, then?’

‘Yes, it does. Unfortunately. I was rather looking forward to it. Would another kiss do instead?’

‘I suppose that will suffice,’ was Harry's smooth reply, glasses beginning to steam up again.

* * *

  **Eight weeks later**

* * *

 ‘Oh Harry, he’s beautiful!’ Hermione cooed, juggling the little cream coloured fuzzball in both hands, ‘did you give him a name?’

Harry removed his glasses a moment to wipe them down, watching Hermione set the kitten on the floor so he could waddle around the dorm at his own free will; now the kittens were old enough, candidates were eligible to step forward and proceed with the adoption process and so far there had been a lot of willing volunteers to take the little hairballs in.

Harry had informed Sirius of the new arrivals via letter and while his Godfather reminded him that he was more of a dog person, he did agree to take in the odd little runt that was a little hard of hearing. It would be nice having a companion about after all those years in Azkaban; especially one that was an outcast, like Sirius felt he had been as a child. He just hoped Sirius wouldn't startle her too much when he switched to animagus mode. 

Harry initially hadn’t believed Draco when he told him Professor _Snape_ had taken the little black kitten that somehow managed to sprout from Fussy’s snow-white genetics; but he was shocked, along with many others, to walk into Potions and find the tiny creature had taken up residence on the professor’s desk; using a thick stack of paperwork as an appropriate cushion. He wondered how much prodding and probing Remus had done before he had got Snape to agree.

Fred and George had nabbed the two ginger kittens, much to Ron’s dismay. But written permission from their mother clarifying the therapeutic influence of animals and how they can ease the pain of separation anxiety shattered any hopes of him using parental authority to rid his brothers of the Fussy descendants. 

‘I was thinking Michaelis,’ Harry replied when he had placed his glasses back on his nose, ‘Drac- erm, Malfoy says his Dad used to have a Jarvey with the same name.’

‘Seems logical,’ Ron snorted, nudging the kitten slightly with the toe of his shoe, ‘a ferret for the ferret. So Malfoy’s really letting you keep him? He really must love that moggy of his to trust her offspring with you.’

‘What I don’t understand is how on earth Fussy ended up in the Slytherin common room in the first place,’ said Hermione, ‘how could she have possibly managed to get from Privet Drive to Hogwarts? It’s logically impossible!’

‘Perhaps she’s a homing cat,’ Harry chuckled, making sure Michaelis didn’t wander too close to the fire, ‘Malfoy is still trying to work out who the father is so he can sue whoever “defiled” her. He’s been hounding practically every cat owner in the school for weeks.’

The elegant arches of Hermione’s brows rose slightly, ‘he’s wasting his time. All the kittens look different; it could have been anyone’s cat.’

‘He’s got this spell that his dad taught him; he tests it on the cat and if it’s the father, it should turn neon blue,’ Harry shrugged a little, ‘but you’re right; it’s a waste of-’

The door of the common room swung open so quickly, the defeated cry of the Fat Lady cut off as her portrait hit the wall. Malfoy, practically tripping over his own robes, took the now neon blue Crookshanks from his arms and held him out Lion-King style over his head.

**‘ _HERMIONE GRANGEEEER!_ ’**


End file.
